


Secret

by abigailsden



Series: Bethyl Week [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2269644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigailsden/pseuds/abigailsden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Day 1 of Bethyl Week</p><p>Prompt: Secret and 'Poison & Wine' by The Civil Wars</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between 'Still' and 'Alone'. 
> 
> N.B: physical abuse mentioned.

_‘You only know what I want you to/I know everything you don’t want me to’_

_‘The less I give the more I get back’_

 

One afternoon, one sweltering summer afternoon, they come across a stream. The perfect remedy for their dry throats and sweat-sticky skin. The sound of water gently rushing over the rocks reaches their ears first; Beth’s face immediately lights up and her pace quickens. A little reluctantly, Daryl hitches up his crossbow on his shoulder and follows her lead.

By the time he reaches the bank, she is already crouching down on a rock, refilling her bottle with water to boil later. Daryl scouts around the bank, crossbow at the ready – nothing. Their vantage point means they’ll see anything before it sees them. He settles down on the bank, weapon still poised as he allows himself to breathe out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Beth is mere metres away, alert and ready as she lets her heart rate settle. They sit for a little while in silence, the forest almost eerily quiet.

Perhaps, for just a moment, they have found an oasis free of the walkers they spend their days and nights attempting to shake off their trail. None of their unearthly moans, not even faintly, echo through the trees, and after a few minutes, Beth relaxes her shoulders and Daryl sets down his crossbow.

Perhaps, for just a moment, they can be off their guard.

Beth pulls off her boots and peels off her socks before dipping her feet into the cool water; just her toes at first, before she can’t resist it any longer, and she lets both feet slip in. Bliss. The best thing to happen in weeks. She is reminded of paddling in the farm’s duck pond with Maggie until someone told them off, but she pushes the memory away. She doesn’t get to be sad.

Daryl just watches, neither approving nor disapproving. She wiggles her toes and sighs happily as the grime washes off them. Even after these days they’ve spent, alone and yet not quite alone, he still cannot quite make out Beth Greene.

She notices him watching, and she looks up and smiles a slightly unsure smile. “What?”

He doesn’t reply, but she thinks she notices a slight smile wavering at his lips.

They have grown so used to each other’s company, alone and yet not quite alone, that he does not think twice about pulling off his shirt, sticky with blood and sweat.

He forgets about the scars. He forgets, as he splashes his chest with water, washing away days of close calls and bloody combat. He forgets, until he glances over his shoulder.

She has that look on her face, the one he’s seen before. But not from anyone else, just from her. Lips pressed together, forehead tight with concern. No judgment; not even any pity. Just a desire to understand. To help. To heal.

He turns away, but something, from somewhere, compels him to speak. “My dad, when he got lit, he used to…” He can’t quite say it. “…me an’ Merle. Till he left. Then it was just me.”

Before, he would have lashed out. Got mad, swore, snarled at her to back off. But after they burned down that house, he’s stopped trying to push Beth away.

But there’s only so much that can be changed. He hurriedly pulls his shirt back on, ashamed. Some secrets are best left untold. He’s convinced of that.

But once they’re told, you can’t take them back.

Beth hears the hurt in his voice; the guilt. She moves from her rock onto the bank. Slow steps, until she is sat down beside him in the dust. She’s out of his sight, but Daryl knows she’s there.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She tells him, in that firm voice that makes her sound far wiser than her years should allow. “But you survived. And you’re here. That means somethin’.”

He is about to reply when they hear the not too distant but far too familiar growls. They jump up; Beth pulls on her boots and Daryl grabs his crossbow. In this new world, sharing secrets isn’t a luxury they can afford.


End file.
